Going Out

It was a clear Sunday morning. Everybody was happily doing his or her own stuff. And as for our trio… well, Ron and Hermione were having their usual fight. Their usual hopeless 'Viktor Krum' fights, to be exact. Everybody had cleared out the Gryffindor common room to avoid their bickering. The only ones there were the arguing pair and their faithful friend, Harry Potter.

"You know, Ron… you make me sick! What do you mean Viktor's a trifler? What makes you think you know him better than me!" screamed a rather raged-face Hermione Granger.

"That git is years older than you, Granger! You have no right to stick around with guys his age! It's downright disgusting!" spat the redhead.

"Oh! We're using last names now, are we?" sneered Hermione. "Well let me tell you something, Weasley, I don't care what you think of him. He's my friend. I'm allowed to write to him. And I'd like you to live with that fact! Over and done!"

"Fine! If you want to get yourself ravaged my an old hormonally-charged Bulgarian prat, that's not my problem!"

Hermione who was half way up the girls' dormitory stopped and turned slowly. Harry could sense an active volcano about to erupt by just looking at her face.

"RONALD WEASLEY! WHAT IS IT WITH YOU! WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUCH IF I GO OUT WITH HIM OR NOT!"

"YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSE TO GO OUT WITH HIM! LET ALONE BE IN CONTACT! AND TO ADD TO THAT… I HATE HIM!"

"You were his greatest fan! What's with the change? Suddenly he's this big old monster, huh!" Hermione retorted back as she descended the stairs.

"He's not a monster. He's worst than that! He's evil! He's from Durmstrang! Every evil being comes from there!"

"Ron, please. Don't humiliate yourself," Hermione said in a bored tone.

"I humiliate myself? You're the one doing that! Stop going out with him!"

"HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU I'M NOT GOING OUT WITH HIM! He. Is. Just. My. Friend. GET THAT THROUGH THAT THICK SKULL OF YOURS!"

"Oh! So now I'm thick?"

"Yes, you are, Ronald! If you can't believe I'm not going out with Viktor, then I suggest you should stick being called a 'thick-headed prat'!"

This earned a growl from the freckled boy. "I don't know what you see in him, anyway."

Hermione groaned. "Must we go over this again? How thick can you be!"

Ron chose to ignore the last comment. "I mean, yeah… sure he's a big famous Quidditch star," Ron continued, rolling his eyes at his own words. "But other than that, I don't see him any good for you."

Hermione stared at her friend for a while. "Oh, really? Well then, please do tell me oh-all-mighty Ronald will be the best for me?"

This caught Harry's interest, as he stopped polishing his firebolt. Ron on the other hand couldn't help but fidget.

"Well, I just thought it would be better if you go out with someone the same age as you… You know, someone much closer to you?" He mumbled, looking down at his feet.

Harry's breathe hitched at his friend's words. Is this it? Is this the moment the whole school have been waiting for? Is it finally happening? He turned to look at his female friend who was at the moment starring open-eyed at his redhead friend.

It was a while before she spoke. "Well, fine, then." Turning to look at her bespectacled friend, she asked, "Harry, will you go out with me?"

Silence swept throughout the whole room, both boys starring open-mouthed at their bushy haired friend.

"I can't stand another second to be near that prat any longer," she explained, pointing her finger at Ron.

"Wha- well- I-I…" Harry stuttered, but Hermione did not let him finish his sentence, for he was already dragged by the arm towards the portrait hole.

Harry chanced a glance at Ron, only to find his friend still mouthing soundlessly like a guppy after them.

"Sorry, Harry. Don't take this too seriously. I just can't stand it anymore. He's really getting onto my nerves," Hermione said quietly once they were out of the common room, her face still quite red with rage. "Well, come on. Let's go to the Great Hall or something."

Harry sighed and shook his head. "Another day, another fight," he muttered to himself.

"What's that, Harry?"

"Nothing."